


Earthquakes

by Atalto



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Cuddling, Descriptions of Blood, Gen, Hunk (Voltron) Angst, Hunk (Voltron)-centric, Hurt/Comfort, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Nightmares, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Vomiting, but not actual death its a dream sequence, descriptions of death, the team as a family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 14:06:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11232591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atalto/pseuds/Atalto
Summary: His mother always used to warn him of tremors and buildings, of collapsing whilst the buildings around you stood strong.The signs are all there. The earthquake is coming.But he's fine, really.





	Earthquakes

**Author's Note:**

> There is no where near enough Hunk centric angst on this site or on tumblr. Be the change you want to see in this world.
> 
> Yeah, there's several sections of this where discretion is advised. I didn't put up a warning for violence or major character death since it's all in a dream sequence, but if you want me to add a tag since I've probably missed something, please don't hesitate to say! 
> 
> Also I know jackshit about architecture 
> 
> Enjoy!

When Hunk was younger, he used to get wrapped up in projects. It was a time when he saw broken car engines as weekend fun rather than additional points that would help him pass a term, and unfortunately he had a habit of getting _way_ too involved in them to the point where he'd forget to clamber up the stairs to eat when Momma called, or to sleep once the cicadas began whirring outside the window.

Momma would find him the next day, huddled away in the garage with oil smeared across his face and bags under his tired eyes, hands shaking in the morning light.

"Oh Hunk, baby," she'd coo as she would prise too-big wrenches out of his chubby hands and bundle him into her arms, "you're going to overwork yourself one day, and you'll crash and burn, and I don't want to see that happen."  
He'd reply with a shake of his head. "But Momma, I'm fine! Papa needed help with Mr Grubb's engine, he wouldn't have been able to finish it on his own!"  
Smiling a sad smile, Momma would take him up to his room and tuck him into bed despite the sun shining through the window slats, and take one trembling hand in her bigger, softer ones. "Do you know what happens to buildings in tremors, if this happens to them?"  
"No Momma."  
"Sometimes, small tremors like these can offset the foundations of even the tallest buildings," She would explain gently, passing his hands between hers as she talked. "And when an actual earthquake hits, all the buildings stay strong except the one who had the tremors, see? I don't want you to become that building, to overwork yourself now by helping others so much that you collapse later on. I don't want that, Hunk baby."  
Hunk would shake his head and look in her eyes determinedly. "I won't let that happen, I promise."  
And then everything would be alright. She'd ruffle his hair and press a kiss into his forehead, closing the door with a click and a "Love you!"

Here, miles away from Momma, he really wishes he kept that promise.

* * *

 

He should have seen it coming.

The first sign was an accident really, no, really, _it was._

He was fixing up the red lion one afternoon (or what he assumed was afternoon), knee deep in wiring and sheared metal. They'd come back from a mission only hours before that hadn't gone terribly, but hadn't gone great either. Sure, they had retrieved a sacred crystal from the Galra for a panicking alien species, but the crystal turned out to be an egg of what Hunk likened to a dragonfly.  
A dragonfly that came out of the egg the size of Voltron itself, and could apparently spit acid from birth.  
Due to this, Lance had to go and spend his free time in a healing pod, and Keith's lion had taken such a hit that it simply wouldn't stand up anymore, and had taken to sprawling on the hangar floor whilst Hunk welded together eroded wiring.

He was amazed Keith had even asked him really, since Keith never asked anyone for anything. Hunk felt kind of bad about it, since fixing up a lion was nothing compared to the help he'd given the rest of the team.  
But he'd seen how much trust it took for Keith to let him see the red lion, a humbling experience that he privately prided himself on. If this was how Keith displays trust, that's fine. He'd take this at Keith's pace, and he was okay with that.  
In fact, having Keith hovering outside the lion, periodically peering in and asking what he was doing was incredibly useful, allowing him to talk through the problems he was facing and often find solutions in the process. Altean engineering wasn't the most straightforward, but he was getting the hang of it slowly; Keith seemed fairly impressed in his awkward reluctance to leave, and Hunk guessed some of the shoddy quick-fixes he'd broken and recreated properly was Keith's attempt at patching the lion back together.  
"So Keith, was it the acid that did this?"

It was here when Hunk's hand slipped, completely unbidden, and he sliced his palm on a rogue piece of metal, shiny grey now stained with red that matched the lion's exterior. When he pulled away, his right hand was trembling. Weird.  
Then he heard Keith's exclamation of shock and a hand curled around his collar, dragging him backwards out of the hole in the Lion's underside.  
"Fuck Hunk, are you okay?" Keith asked, voice full of concern. Hunk wasn't surprised - Keith had a tendency to overreact about injuries, showing the protective streak that he tried to hide despite it being as wide as the marina trench.  
"Keith, buddy, I'm fine," Hunk reassured back, smiling tiredly when Keith darted over to the wall of the hangar to retrieve the emergency kit Coran taught them how to use. "Dude, I literally just said-"  
"Shut up Hunk, you're bleeding."

Well, that was the end of that.

"Your hands, they're shaking," Keith said with a scowl, after wrapping an alien bandage over the injury. Gently, he took both of Hunk's hands in his like holding them would stop them moving.  
Hunk shrugged him off. "I've just come out of a space battle with a giant bug, forced my best friend into a space pod of doom, and then tried to fix an alien warship shaped like a house cat. I guess you could say I'm a little _wired_." He laughed at his own joke, fading into an awkward smile when he saw Keith's completely serious face. "Honestly Keith, I'm fine."

Eventually Keith nodded, and finally retracted his hands back into his own lap. "Okay, if you're sure."  
"I am." He stood, stretching and feeling a burn that told him his muscles were incredibly tired. "I'll just finish up here, go and tell the others I'll be up for dinner soon."  
"But Hunk-"  
"Seriously Keith, I'm okay. Go do your Galra thing where you magically appear in doorways and scare the crap out of everyone."  
Sighing, Keith rose in front of him, shooting him a concerned glance that softened almost immediately. "I'll tell them you'll be around. Thanks for fixing up red."  
"No problem! The offer's always open if you need help with anything, y'know?"  
Keith chuckled, the first somewhat positive thing Hunk had seen him do today. "I'll keep that in mind."

As he left, Hunk lowered his hands. They'd stopped trembling now, thankfully, so either Keith had magical Galra powers, or it was just muscle damage. He'd pulled a muscle and his arm jolted. No biggie.  
Red needed finishing, she had at least 4 loose wires Hunk could remember seeing, probably more. He'd be fine.

* * *

 

The next time happened not long after that. Maybe a day or so, if Hunk's counting the days was correct.

The next time he was aware of them was one evening, or what he assumed was evening, after a hard day of training. The Princess had wanted them to bond deeper with their lions, flying the castleship deep into an asteroid belt then asking them to pilot their lions back without hitting a single rock. Whoever hit the least got to pick an improvised recipe for dinner, and whoever hit the most had to clean up. Hunk had memorised Keith's preference of the blue space potatoes before they'd even started.  
Needless to say, he found it hard. Yellow was lovely, but large and cumbersome compared to Red and Green that zipped and leaped through the belt. For them, this wasn't training, this was a game, leaving Yellow, Black and Blue in the dust. It said something when even Shiro and Lance were finding this hard; Black was easily the biggest lion, and trying to find gaps big enough to fit it's mass plus it's wings through was nigh-on impossible, and though Blue was small enough to fit through the rocks, Lance's tendency to overcompensate his piloting left her slamming into rocks left right and centre.  
As the exercise went on, it got a bit easier as they learned which rocks they could fit through and which ones they couldn't. Hunk had relaxed, rolling his eyes at the friendly jabs from Keith and Pidge who were already back on the ship. It would be fine.

That was when a streak of blue cut through the empty space above the belt, lighting up dark rocks with thruster jets.  
_"Lance, didn't we agree that flying over the asteroids was cheating?"_ Shiro's snark crackled over the comms, and Hunk snorted; of course Lance would be the one to push the rules.  
"We're going pretty slowly as well, but if you don't get back here, I think the Princess might add some extras to your hit count."  
A laugh echoed back at them, very obviously Lance's, but seemed hollow. _"Sorry guys, Blue felt like taking a detour, didn't you, beautiful?"_ There was a clunk loud enough to make Hunk's ears hurt. _"I think she's had enough with this training though, so I think I'm gonna have to forfeit this one."_  
Shiro reluctantly gave the go-ahead, depite Keith's jabs over the comms and Hunk's anxiety that was beginning to settle in the back of his throat. Something wasn't right here; even if Blue was playing around, he'd usually try and get to the end. Lance was stubborn like that, sometimes to the point of stupidity. So Lance giving up early? That was new, and worrying.

Him and Shiro finished a short time after, Hunk pushing through the rocks in a bid to see Lance, and Shiro trailing along behind in the space that Yellow had created.  
He met the Princess in the hangars, barely patient enough to sit through her ironic talk on patience. The one thing he did pay attention to though was that Lance was still in Blue's hangar apparently, although she seemed loath to tell him.

Turned out that she was right, and Hunk turned the corner to see Lance sat cross-legged in front of the giant Blue Lion. They were separated by a particle barrier, obviously Blue's.  
"Lance?" Hunk asked tentatively, careful not to shock him, "Bro, 'you okay?"  
Lance didn't turn. "Yeah dude, I'm fine," his eyes never moved from his lion, "Blue's just messing me around, aren't you babe?"  
Nothing about the lion told Hunk she had heard what Lance said, and Hunk plopped gracelessly onto the floor next to him. "How long has she been like this?"  
Lance shrugged. "It was only recently I think. Like, she didn't want to fly this morning, but it wasn't until the mission that she started doing her own thing." Sighing again, he buried his chin in his arms, finally looking towards Hunk; it was rare that Lance's eyes ever lost that sparkle he'd become known for, but Hunk knew something was definitely up when he looked positively heartbroken. "Hunk? We've been buddies for ages, you'd tell me the truth, right?" There was an unmistakable voice crack that Lance attempted to cover with a cough.  
"Of course, c'mon Lance, do I ever lie to you?"  
Lance cocked an eyebrow. "Princess Allura? On the Galra ship?"  
Hunk paled and turned his head away. "Sorry dude."  
"Nah, it's okay." Lance chuckled and haphazardly rested his head on Hunk's shoulder, "I still love you, my dude."

"So, can I help with Blue?" Hunk hastily asked, slightly regretting it when he turned back to Lance to see the Blue paladin avert his eyes to the floor.  
"Not really, unless you're like some secret lion whisperer," Lance sighed, deadpan. "You, you don't think it's my fault, do you?"  
Frowning, Hunk span around, fully facing Lance. "Why the heck would you think that?"  
"I don't know, man." Lance looked up at him, small and broken in his confusion. "I wish I knew."  
And, oh quiznak, now Lance was crying. Hunk had learned from the Garrison that Lance was a quiet crier despite his brash nature, but the sound of his near silent sobs still echoed around the hangar like gunfire. Hunk darted forwards, not caring for personal space, and wrapped strong arms around his friends shoulders.  
"Hey, it's gonna' be okay, yeah? I'm sure Blue doesn't hate you." He half-whispered, pulling Lance flush against his chest. "You remember Jeremy in elementary school?"  
"He, he ignored me for two hours and I thought he hated me," Lance quietly said through thick sniffles.  
"And did he?"  
"No, he was just tired and didn't want to talk to anyone." His breaths were slowing down now, racing mind brought to a gradual standstill by the memories.   
"Exactly. So maybe Blue isn't mad with you, she's just tired and wants some rest." Hunk drew back as he felt Lance begin to resist the hug, and he passed a jacket over for Lance to wipe his face on. "You okay?"  
"Yeah man, sorry." Lance offered a shaky smile, frowning slightly at his now damp jacket. "This paladin business is starting to get to me, y'know?"  
"Yeah, I get you," Hunk said with a chuckle and pulled Lance up with him as he stood. "I'm gonna' go find Pidge, wanna' come with me and bother her?"  
Lance sniffed, wiping away the last of the snot with the back of his hand. "Of course dude! Always up for pissing off Pidgey." An arm slipped around his as Lance began to walk in step with him.

Hunk tried to ignore how his hands shook against Lance's, and prayed his friend didn't notice.

* * *

 

By the third time, it was just getting silly.  
The only problem was, that Hunk had no clue how to make it stop.

It had been a quiet day, no sudden Galra attacks or planets crying for help. The Princess had given them all the day off, much to Lance's excitement, and Hunk had spent the day so far cooking; he had picked up some cool ingredients from a recent planet, some kind of alien flour and eggs that he swore glowed in the dark, and he really wanted to try and make a cake. Just a simple one, maybe a pound or a Madera, but something that would hopefully cheer up the team.  
He had just finished laying everything out when he heard the telltale whoosh of air that signalled the door opening.  
"Lance, seriously, I keep telling you, you can't have any until it's cooked!" He called over his shoulder, bending down to flick on the oven. "Go pester Keith or something, I'll call you when it's done!"

It wasn't Lance.

Instead, whilst waiting for the usual irritated huff that Lance usually made whilst storming out the room, he heard an awkward scuff of feet on the floor. "I... I'm sorry, should I come back later?"  
Stood in the door was Shiro, hunched and tense. Hunk stood and relaxed immediately, stepping away from the counter, but not too fast as to alert him; Shiro had that look in his eye, like a cat ready to jump and run at any stimulus. "No, you can stay," he said softly. "I though you were Lance, my bad."  
A chair slid out from under the table in the centre of the room, and Shiro sat down gingerly. Now he was closer, Hunk could see _exactly_ why he was looking so panicked. He was no psychologist, but he could recognise the after signs of a panic attack when he saw them, mostly the sweat-slicked hair, tear-tracked face, and the shakiness of his steps when he moved to sit. Shiro covered it well, just like the last known time this happened when Sendak took over the castle, but now Hunk knew what he was looking for it hard to miss.  
The only problem was that he'd never really had a proper conversation with their leader outside of battle tactics. Where he started was anyone's guess.

"Can I get you anything?"

And what a way to start, by making it awkward from the get go. Well done Hunk, real clever

Thankfully, Shiro smiled tightly and waved a hand dismissively. "I'm okay, thank you." His voice cracked on the final syllable, giving away the blatant lie.  
It was pretty silent after that, neither really wanting to initiate the conversation. Hunk worked away on the cake, mixing and measuring as best he could in with the foreign instruments. He was aware of Shiro watching him closely, but was thankful that each time he glanced over his shoulder to make sure Shiro was okay, he looked a little more relaxed.

"What are you making?" Shiro eventually asked, voice still husky but a bit smoother.  
"Just a cake, nothing too exciting."  
"Can I help?"  
Now, Hunk hadn't been expecting that. Shiro maybe have been naturally selfless, but he'd never seen the older Paladin help anyone out of the goodness of his heart before unless they were Keith or the Princess.  
Hunk decided it was best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Oh! Uh, sure! If you want, you could start mixing some of the dry ingredients together." A chair scraped on the floor and Shiro materialised next to him, looking uncomfortably drawn together as Hunk pointed out which bowls to mix and which ones to leave.  
They worked in almost silence, the only noice being Shiro occasionally asking for reminders about what to do next. Hunk replied patiently each time, despite the fact he was pretty sure he'd repeated himself several times by now. They had a good rhythm going, and soon Hunk was watching Shiro pour the batter into a circular tin; he'd ended up with batter on the tip of his nose at some point, and part of Hunk didn't want to point it out.

That was when Hunk reached down to remove a tray from the oven that he'd forgotten to do. His hand shook once, twice, and then there was a clatter of metal of hard floor, causing Shiro to whip his hands over his ears and Hunk to grimace.  
"Hunk, are you alright?" Shiro sounded worried, and suddenly the tray was on the table and he was kneeling next to Hunk on the floor.  
"Oh yeah, sorry for worrying you," Hunk replied with a laugh, "the tray was just a bit hotter than I thought it was, and I dropped it because it burnt my hand. It's no big deal Shiro, relax."  
A coldness spread through Hunk's right hand, as Shiro placed his Galra hand on top of it. "Christ, Hunk. Your hands."  
"I'll spill my problems if you spill yours."  
His leader smiled despite himself, shaking his head slightly. "Touché."  
"But seriously, Shiro, you can't keep doing this. You can't keep hiding your problems from the team. We're here for you, y'know? I mean, if you had a dollar for every time someone told you that you'd be a rich man, but still-"  
"Hunk," Shiro cut him off, "the same applies to you, you know."  
Shrugging, Hunk looked up. "But I'm not in desperate need of it right now."

As he stood, Shiro shot him a judgemental look, but eventually rose next to him. "Would you mind if I came and baked with you again? I see why you do it a lot, it is _incredibly_ calming."  
"Sure!" Hunk handed him a cake tin to place in the oven, not trusting his hands enough to do it himself. "You're a much better baking partner than Lance or Pidge anyway."  
He heard Shiro laugh under is breath, smile eventually fading as he looked down at the countertop. Hunk placed one hand gently on his arm, hoping the shakiness couldn't be felt through clothing.  
"I thought I was in the Arena again," Shiro whispered, eyes refusing to look up from the counter.  
"Was that why you came in here looking panicked?" Hunk asked, quiet and worried.  
"Probably."  
That told him all he needed to know, and he drew the larger man into a hug that wasn't too constricting, but made him aware of Hunk's presence. "I'm sorry, dude."  
"It's not your fault."  
Eventually he felt Shiro's arms around his shoulders, and he was pretty sure his hands had stopped shaking.  
See, nothing to worry about.

* * *

 

He'd given up counting now. Shaking hands were now a regular occurrence, something he tried to heal in secret with ice water or alien herbal remedies. He should be thankful, thankful that they didn't impact his paladin abilities.  
But instead Hunk's bitter, bitter that he's the one who needs his hands most of all, bitter that no one else can quite experience how much inconvenience they've caused. At least they're just that. An inconvenience.

They'd returned from a battle minutes ago, a long, hard one in which the green lion had taken an ion cannon shot directly to the head, resulting in one of the biggest arguments Hunk had ever seen between Lance and Keith; bayards had been drawn, threats had been exchanged, and Hunk reckoned Shiro had come away from it with a few more white hairs added to the clump he already owned.  
All in all, it was a complete disaster, and Pidge still hadn't come out of her lion. Whilst Shiro was preventing Lance and Keith from ripping each other to shreds, Hunk decided to investigate.  
He found Pidge in her lion, curled up in a tight ball in the corner of the cockpit, eyes unfocused in the middle distance and mouth drawn into a tight line. She didn't acknowledge his entrance, but didn't seem too hurt.  
Then he saw the blood on her cheek that lazily dripped down her neck and trailed under her armour. She was injured, and bad.  
Hunk's mind went into overdrive. Where was the blood coming from? Was it an artery, or did it just miss? How much blood had she lost, and for how long, at what rate? How long did he have before hypovolemic shock kicked it? Oh god, what if it had already started - she was as good as dead, and they had just let her die-

Stop Hunk. Regroup. Focus. Pidge needs you.

He ripped a side panel off the inside wall of the cockpit, grabbing the medipack inside and kneeling in front of Pidge, desperately hoping he didn't look as panicked as he felt. "Pidge? Can you hear me?" He asked tentatively, already mapping the distance and time to the infirmary in his head.  
There was a brief pause where Hunk thought she wasn't going to reply, and he was aware of his heart beating in his ears, frantic and drum-like in the solid silence of the cockpit.  
Her head jerked in what Hunk was sure was a nod, and he released a breath he didn't realise he was holding. Auburn eyes locked onto his and she nodded again, stronger this time.  
"Okay, can you tell we where you're bleeding from? I, I need to stop the bleeding," he urged.  
Pidge visibly steeled, body tensing like iron as she lifted her arms over her head, pulling what remained of her helmet off with an audible crack. Underneath, Hunk could see clearly a large clump of matted mousey hair, turned crimson and sticky with blood. The injury itself was still oozing, to the point where a rivulet of red began to trail down her face again.  
Hunk could do little but watch on in horror.  
"Hunk," she stuttered weakly, tightly curling around herself, "Hunk, I think I'm gonna be sick." Without further notice, she threw herself forwards and retched onto the floor, narrowly missing Hunk. An acidic smell filled the cockpit, and Hunk paled.  
"You needed to get to a healing pod, like, ten minutes ago. Can you stand?" She shook her head - her eyes had unfocused again.  
Slipping one arm behind her back and one under her knees, Hunk ran out of the cockpit. He hoped the lift wasn't too uncomfortable, but right now he doubted Pidge even noticed as she burrowed her face into the crook of is neck and groaned. He felt wet on his cheek. The bleeding was worse than he thought.

It didn't take long for Coran to prepare a pod, placing the green paladin inside with an urgency that only seemed to arise when someone was hurt. Hunk was thankful for Coran for that, since that urgency had saved his friends on numerous occasions. He even let Hunk stay after he'd ordered the other Paladins to rest, leaving the room with a fatherly clap on Hunk's shoulder, passing over a cold water pouch, and an giving assurance that all would be alright.  
Hunk placed a hand against the smooth glass of the pod. It was shaking, and he hadn't even noticed, too busy with Pidge to give a damn about himself.  
But if he'd acted faster, looked out on the battle field more, this wouldn't have actually happened. Green should never have taken that hit, and if the team- if _Hunk_ had acted quicker, they could have taken the brunt of the attack for her.

The water pouch hit the floor. Apparently Hunk's hands were shaking so bad he couldn't even fucking hold things now.

He sank to the floor next to the spilt pouch, and sobbed.

* * *

 

 _He was at home, evening light filtering through the shutters that covered his window. He was warm, he noticed, tucked up to the chin by soft crocheted blankets that smelled of home and his cat that liked to bask in the sun on them when he kicked them to the floor. It must have been winter then, but he couldn't feel the chill through the outside wall like usual._  
_"Baby? Are you okay?" That was his Momma's voice, calling through the door. At least he thought she was outside the door; her voice was muffled and far away, but her warmth still bled through._  
_He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He tried again, to call and shout, but the white noise of the room taunted him again with brittle, humming claws._  
_"Hunk? Where are you, my baby?" Her voice called again, and all he wanted was to scream that he was there, safe and warm and waiting for her to open the door to see him curled up in bed. He wanted to see her, to see her smile and to have her strong arms around him, to feel her calloused fingers wipe his tears away again. He felt childish and alone, the urge to thrash and struggle suppressed by his inability to even breathe._

_"Come back to me Hunk." That was a sob, a crash against the wood of the door. "I miss you."_

_That's when the bed gave way beneath him, and suddenly he was floating, free falling into space. His Momma's cries echoed and smashed around him, and suddenly the ochre of his pyjamas morphed into sharp streaks of war torn yellow. He was on a battlefield; the crystals that glowed in the darkness were undeniably Balmeran, but it wasn't an environment he'd ever been in. The bayard felt heavy in his hands._

_It was spattered with blood. Both Galran and human._

_There was a groan to his left, the only noise in the silence of the pockmarked plain. He turned on his heel so fast his head span._  
_On the floor was Lance, face down in the dirt, white and blue starkly contrasting the brown of the planet._  
_There was blood on the ground, blood up his armour, blood hanging in the air._  
_He only had- oh god, he only had one leg. He wasn't even breathing. He was gone._

_He spotted Keith soon after, skewered against a rock with a spear though his neck. Pidge was by his feet, helmet cracked and eyes lifeless, a crimson river down her chin proof enough of her suffering._

_He couldn't see Shiro. He didn't know if he wanted to._

_There was smoke in the distance, billowing high into the mustard sky. Something had happened here, something awful, and he didn't do anything. He couldn't protect them.it was his fault. He was the yellow paladin, left leg of Voltron that the team stood upon. Turns out he couldn't even fulfil the most basic aim._

_The image melted before him, slow and mocking with it's image of failure._  
_All had turned to darkness, and he felt himself fall._

_This time, he never landed._

* * *

"Hunk? Hunk, are you okay buddy?"

The team was stood over the yellow paladin, asleep and shaking on one of the communal couches. Lance had thought he was sleeping peacefully, until he started shouting for his mom.  
Things had gotten progressively worse from there, and Lance had ended up calling the rest of the team from their beds when his thrashing began to get violent.

"He's having a nightmare, be careful," Shiro urged, sat with Hunk's head on his lap and a gentle human hand carding through sweat slicked hair.  
Pidge sighed, impatient and exasperated. "We can tell. How do we wake him up?"  
"Wait," Keith snapped, eyes fixed on Hunk, who's eyes were beginning to flutter open. Unshed tears flowed as he blinked sluggishly, and they still looked glazed from sleep.  
"G-guys?" He whispered, voice broken and raw from shouting, yet loud enough to overpower a joint breath of relief.  
Shiro placed his metal hand on Hunk's forehead, hoping the cold would help bring back some sense of reality. "Hunk, can you hear me? You're safe, I promise."  
He groaned again, keening to the touch. "I couldn't protect you."  
"We're protecting you now, it's all gonna' be okay." Lance forced a smile, tightly looping his hands around Hunk's lax ones. Shiro's hands moved from his head to under his shoulders, pulling him upright despite his mumbled complaints. "We need to get him to a bed, someone help me lift him."  
They nodded; Lance rushed to one side whilst Shiro moved to the other, Pidge running in front to guide stumbling feet and Keith behind, placing firm hands on Hunk's shoulder blades.

They eventually directed him to his room, letting him collapse onto the bed silently.  
"Is that any better?" Keith asked, concern evident in the shake of his voice. Hunk nodded jerkily, and tense muscles relaxed into the soft material.  
"Please, don't leave me," He mumbled, weak hands scrabbling in the air.  
Pidge was the first to move, tucking herself into Hunk's chest. "You say that as if we were even thinking about it."  
"Yeah dude, gotta' keep on protecting!" Lance said with a grin as he crawled across the bed and fixed himself against Hunk's back, wrapping wiry arms around his waist. He look over Hunk's shoulder at Keith and Shiro expectantly. "You doofuses joining in or what?"  
Keith sighed. "You know Hunk, for someone who's so clever, you're an idiot sometimes."  
"Look who's talking," came the soft reply from Hunk, and Keith chuckled. Moving so he was behind Lance, he threw an arm over to his hand was touching Hunk's hip.  
"Hey, why do you have to go behind me?" Lance grumbled, earning a shove from Keith.  
"Because there was more space on this side, moron," Keith replied, slow yet forceful.  
"But you're smaller than Shiro!"  
"Oi, boys," Pidge called from the other side of the bed, "no arguing in the cuddle pile, it's not allowed." Hunk laughed quietly at the responding moans of annoyance.  
"Hey Shiro? Are you joining in?" Keith looked over the top of Pidge's head at the Black paladin, who can awkwardly standing on his own in the centre of the room.  
Shiro waved a hand, smiling crookedly. "There's not enough room, don't worry about me."  
"Shiro, this is a paladin cuddle pile, and, since you are a paladin, you have to join in," Lance explained, popping up from behind Hunk's shoulder. "Everybody shuffle wall-side!"  
There was a mass of movement as the four Paladins all tried to move at the same time, causing Keith to swear as he backed against the wall and Hunk to gain a proper smile on his face. He tapped the resulting space lightly. "Keith's sacrificed his personal space, you gonna' join in now."  
Shiro sighed in mock defeat and gingerly slid behind Pidge, curling one arm around her and moving the other so his hand was near Keith's on Hunk's hip. "Is this okay for you, Hunk?"  
Hunk nodded. "This is great, thank you guys." He sounded grateful, honest in his exhaustion. "I'm sorry."  
Pidge lightly punched his chest. "Don't you dare apologise, it's our fault for not noticing you were hurting sooner."  
"Yeah, like you do so much for us," Lance piped up, "really, we should be doing so much more."  
"This is the least we could do," Keith said softly, brief annoyance replaced by rare but strong concern.  
Shiro chuckled, exhalations fluttering through Pidge's hair. "Now sleep, you need it."

The lights clicked off moments later, leaving the five Paladins in the dark. Hunk could hear their breathing evening out, could feel Lance snuggling against his back and Pidge against his front, could hear Shiro's quiet snores and Keith's sleeping mumbles. For the first time in months, he felt safe, protected from the horrors of the universe with his legs tangled with four other pairs. Maybe, he thought as his eyes fluttered shut, this is what home feels like.

Within moments, he slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Hunk deserves the world and the universe and all the stars within, but y'know, angst is cathartic  
> (also I'm thinking I might write a little Heith second chapter. It's my recent love and I feel Keith didn't receive enough attention in this)
> 
> Kudos/comments make my world spin


End file.
